Hunger

I see you Hunger, you scabby street dog,
As you rest your head easily
on another child's lap.

I can count each stark rib of their labours,
Every measured blink taking more meat off their bones,
If that were possible,
And yet, it is.

Now, the wolf smacks it's lips,
Pacing, on eager paws up the garden path,
Soon, it's cold nose pressing to their toes.

Every angular bone keeping you perched in their hollows,
Chuckling,
While Acceptance boasts in their sunken eye sockets.

The pathetic limpness of such a young body,
Clinging to a mother unable to mother,

Since,

Hunger picked the lock,
Traded the wedding rings,
Slipping so easily from bony fingers,

Burned the furniture
Took the roof lead,
Then the carpets and the linen.

You even made them carry a spoon everywhere, just in case,
While you slumber guiltless in their beds, keeping time with each breath,
Each hard won - in.
Every shallow- out.
Waiting without fail, for their last.



Insp, The Winter Hunger





Poetry by Frances The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 1945 times
Written on 2025-09-25 at 08:24

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Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
A really interesting poem. Thank you for sharing. Blessings, Allen
2025-09-25